


Taken in Hand

by danwriteskink



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Conditioning, Electricity, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, Leather gloves, M/M, Mind Break, Psychological Torture, Torture, no happy endings here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:54:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23243593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danwriteskink/pseuds/danwriteskink
Summary: They catch him at the New York Stock Exchange.
Relationships: John Greer/John Reese
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	Taken in Hand

They catch him at the stock exchange. He thoughtfully sacrifices himself for his friends, of course. Greer wouldn't expect anything less of John Reese. 

Mr Lambert was very keen on taking Reese to the facility in Johannesburg, and if it were one of the others, Greer would have agreed. John Reese, though, is a different matter. The crown jewel in Harold Finch's team? No, this is a project that requires nuance of a certain sort, a sort in which Greer specialises. 

The problem is that Reese is used to torture, has quite the pain tolerance at this stage of life and career. Still, a mind is capable of tolerating only so much. This is something Greer and Reese both understand intimately, on a practical level, and this is why it must be Greer who breaks John. 

Greer plans to use sleep deprivation, drugs and pain, carefully alternated, all applied with utmost precision. A little pressure here, a little pleasure there, until even the indomitable John Reese crumbles. 

It takes time, and more time than Greer had estimated, but eventually, on a fine spring morning, there's a breakthrough. 

Greer's men are working the back of John's thighs with a cattle prod when it happens. John is tied face down over the table in a dark little cell that Greer prefers for this kind of work. It has the right ambience, and for all Mr Reese is an experienced agent, the dank, cold air will certainly have an effect on his mind.

Greer watches from the corner as John's muscles clench and release, as he struggles instinctively against the straps on the table, even though he surely knows by now they are unbreakable. 

There's something to the shape of John's back, Greer thinks. Something hunched, something guarded. 

"Stop a moment, please, gentleman." Greer steps out of the darkness to look a little closer. He nods at one of them. "Turn him over, will you?" 

His men are rightfully wary about this order, but Greer pays them well for their obedience. The cuffs are released, John's slack body is turned and splayed, the cuffs returned, tighter this time. 

John's skin is grimy and sweat-slicked, daubed with livid marks in various stages of development. His eyes follow Greer's movements, and while they're not exactly glazed, Greer is pleased with the degree of confusion in them. John's grip on reality is starting to slip. 

The unexpected delight is John's cock, hard and erect against his belly. It's fine and strong, seemingly imbued with more vitality than the rest of John's beaten body.

"How splendid," Greer says, and takes a step towards John. "I wish dear Harold could see you now. Whatever would he say if he were here? If he saw how excited you are, after all the things we've done to you." 

John is too filthy to touch, so Greer slips on a glove. The fine-grained black leather is thin enough that he can feel the heat from John's cock against his palm. Under his touch, John's eyes roll back in his head and Greer feels the man's hips shudder then go determinedly still. 

"How are you travelling, Mr Reese? I imagine you have concerns. All these months and not a question asked. What can I be waiting for?" Greer slides his hand up and down John's cock, gripping a little harder than would be comfortable under normal circumstances. John is still stoically resisting Greer's efforts, his jaw clenched, his eyes closed.

"Ah, I see you'd very much like to hide that reaction from me. What could be the reason for that, I wonder." He looks pointedly at the red light of the camera, which has recorded every second of John's ordeal. 

"When Samaritan is done analysing your suffering, I do believe I'll have the footage delivered to Mr Finch. I'm sure he'll find it edifying." Greer rounds the head of John's cock with his thumb, letting the stitching on the glove drag hard on the hot, sensitive skin.

A sound escapes John's throat, hoarse and despairing, and Greer smiles. "That's the way," he says, encouragingly. "He's never done this for you, has he? I know what you need, my dear. I'll get you there. All it takes is the right motivation." 

He nods at his men, and one of them puts the cattle prod to John's chest. It's not advised, of course, not this close to the heart, but Greer has never gambled for low stakes. The charge, when it comes, makes John's body bow upwards in an arc. Greer feels John's cock jump against his palm, watches a bead of fluid appear at the tip and slide over his gloved fingers. 

"Ah, there we go." Greer's palm is heating up with the friction of the glove against John's cock, but the constant drip of fluid starts to ease the way a little. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it? Would you like to come, John?" 

He knows they've turned a corner when John starts to move with the action, thrusting into Greer's closed fist despite the painful friction. 

"I suspected as much," Greer says. They're working in harmony now, John drawing back in time with the movement of Greer's hand, and small sounds come from John's parched lips, tired little moans of pleasure. "Your precious Harold did you a disservice, denying you this, but I understand. I know what a soldier like you needs in order to be his best." 

The last jolt of the cattle prod brings John to climax, spilling over the top of Greer's fingers, gouts of it, more than his poor, dehydrated body can afford to produce. 

"Good boy, clever boy," says Greer. "That's it, you've done so very well." He signals to his men, and they bring him a blanket, coarse and grey, but the first covering John has had in weeks. Greer takes it from them, has them uncuff John so he can sling it around the man's shoulders. Greer isn't a strong man by any means, but he makes sure that his arm is firm against John's back, that he knows who has given him this comfort. 

"Let's move Mr Reese to the infirmary," Greer says. "I think it's time to properly begin his rehabilitation." He can't wait to show off his new acquisition the next time he encounters Harold Finch. Harold's expression will be something to behold. 

As the men heave John off the table and onto a trolley, Greer touches him once on the cheek, and John looks at him, hopeless gratitude in his eyes. The mind is an easy thing to break, if you know how and where to push. John knows what's been done to him. John has done it to others. And yet it works, every time. 

"Thank you, Mr Reese," Greer says, and walks beside him all the way to the infirmary. Unlike Harold Finch, he intends to take proper care with his new asset.


End file.
